


Inspiration

by kscribbles



Category: Fright Night (2011)
Genre: Explicit Language, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-05
Updated: 2012-05-05
Packaged: 2017-11-04 21:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/398425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kscribbles/pseuds/kscribbles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Peter/Charley, worship.  Peter is feeling the need to express how greatful he is to Charley for everything and kisses him all over. Slowly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inspiration

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the lj community FrightNight2011's kinkmeme: http://frightnight2011.livejournal.com/718.html

When Peter finds Charley sprawled on his stomach on Peter’s own bed, so casually naked, his breath catches a little. It’s, well… a breathtaking sight.

Charley is watching TV, engrossed in something, and hasn’t noticed Peter’s arrival. Peter leans against the door frame, crosses his arms, and looks his fill. That mop of hair, damp now from a shower, the smooth skin of his back, leading down to his perfect (and perfectly bitable) arse, the runners legs toned by chasing vamps and training with Amy.

Peter’s not quite sure what he’s done to get so lucky. Okay, so he paid a hefty price to have Charley around. But he’d be dead now (or worse) without Charley, and he doesn’t think he’d have it any other way. Peter wants to take him, yank the remote away and express his gratitude, kiss every inch of Charley’s body, and do more besides. But he’s loathe to disturb the teenager lying quietly on his bed; it’d be like smearing a master’s fresh painting. This very second, he’d rather just look.

“Take a picture,” Charley says, not looking up from the telly. “It’ll last longer.”

Ah, so he hadn’t gone unnoticed. Peter ignores the comment, instead asks, “What, you just don’t bother with clothes anymore?”

“I was down at the gym,” Charley says distractedly, pressing a button on the remote. “Had a shower up here and I knew you’d be home soon, so...”

Peter can’t resist ribbing him a little. “Well that’s presumptuous.”

“What is?” Charley finally looks up towards the door.

“Thinking I’d want you naked.”

Charley gives him a slow, devastating smile. “Was I wrong?”

“No,” Peter says, and that does it, he has to move. He pushes off the door frame, shucking his shoes and his shirt as he goes. “But that’s hardly the point.”

He does pluck the remote away then, clicks the power off and drops it unceremoniously, before playfully pushing Charley onto his back and straddling him.

“Good meeting?” Charley asks.

He’d been in contract renegotiations all afternoon. Which weren’t really negotiations at all.

“Yup,” Peter answers, swooping down for a slow, wet kiss, which Charley returns, matching his languid mood and pace. 

He pulls back a little, enough to drag his mouth over Charley’s slightly rough jaw, laying small kisses against his neck, his collarbone. “Turns out…” Peter mumbles into warm skin, “…unsolved murders on the set of a Vegas show are good for business. Met all my demands.”

Charley’s fingers tangle in Peter’s hair and he smiles against the top of Charley’s chest as he feels the younger man getting hard against him. Peter’s getting there too, but for once, his own needs feel secondary.

“What were your demands?” Charley asks a little breathlessly.

Peter doesn’t really want to talk business right now. He wants to worship the body beneath him, wants to make Charley feel as amazing as Charley makes _him_ feel. He licks at the indentation between Charley’s pecs, tasting a hint of soap and salt, before he answers.

“Right now… or in a few minutes at least, I demand you come in my mouth.”

“Oh,” Charley gasps a little as Peter’s tongue circles a nipple. Peter knows Charley still gets a little flustered by dirty talk. “I… imagine that can be arranged. Did they…” he sighs, gives a tiny whimper as Peter’s kisses move lazily across his chest. He tugs on Peter’s hair a bit like he’s not sure whether to pull Peter up for a proper kiss or push him down. Peter loves making Charley impatient. “Did they put that in your contract?”

Peter giggles against Charley’s taut stomach. “They should have. Naked Charley whenever I want. It’d keep the suits happy, and my bastard manager. I’d have the show revamped in no time. Very…” he dips his tongue briefly below the navel and Charley’s hips buck. “…Inspirational.”

Charley lets out a choked moan and flops his arms to his sides, grabbing fistfuls of sheets, as Peter bypasses the completely hard cock in front of him. Instead Peter drops kisses along Charley’s hipbones, one, then the other, before slowly drawing his tongue down one inner thigh, kissing down his calf to the ankle, while Charley does his best not to writhe desperately. Peter can feel the kid almost vibrating with want.

He repeats the process back up the other leg and pays special attention to Charley’s hip again, sucking now just inches from where Charley is hard and probably aching, gently bringing blood up to the surface of the skin, marking him.

“Peter!” Charley whines.

“Hmm?”

“You said… your… your…” Charley squeaks as his thighs are pushed further apart and Peter licks across his balls. “ _Demand_?”

“Right, that. Getting there.” He’s not in a rush; doesn’t have anywhere to be right now. The three cocktails he’d had in the offices downstairs are making his own body’s demands feel comfortably distant, and Peter is enjoying his thorough exploration immensely. Despite the whining, he has a feeling Charley is too. They rarely have time for such indulgences. Sex between them is usually fast, a little rough, making each other come as efficiently as possible before Charley’s running off to class, or he’s running off to do the show, or they need to suit up to take out a vamp, or maybe they’re just crashing into much needed sleep.

But, he realizes as Charley whimpers again, making him wait too much longer would just be cruel.

Peter releases the skin he’s sucked into his mouth and shifts his lips higher, dragging them up along Charley’s cock. Charley sighs in something like relief as Peter finally wraps his lips around the head, slowly moving back down, taking Charley in as deep as he can, before coming up a little faster.

“Peter…” Charley breathes out, and it sounds… grateful.

Which is exactly how Peter feels about Charley. For Charley. Peter sometimes wishes he had words for it… that he could explain just how fucking _privileged_ he feels to have this kid in his life, but he thinks maybe… maybe _this_ is enough.

Of course Peter loves everything they do together in the bedroom (or the sitting room, or in the kitchen, or in the shower…). Fucking, or using their hands in delightfully sinful ways (no one gave a hand job quite like Charley), or just rocking naked against each other until they both come. But there is something about this simple intimacy. Locking eyes with Charley as he slides his mouth wetly up and down, twirling his tongue now and again, a palm laid flat against the warm skin of his lover’s stomach, holding him still.

It doesn’t take long before Charley’s eyes slide shut, his fingers find Peter’s hair again and Charley tugs just a little as he’s getting close. Peter feels himself twitch in his trousers, his own desire getting harder to ignore, but he has a feeling they’ll be getting to that soon. Peter goes to _work_ , moving faster, no more teasing, time to make good on his promises. He does.

In seconds, Charley is crying out hoarsely, Peter hears “ _fuck, Peter, oh fuck_ ,” and really he could listen to filth and accolades pouring out of this kid’s mouth all damned day.

When it’s over and Charley’s hips fall back to the bed, Peter releases him from his mouth and places another few small kisses, not a wandering path this time, but a beeline up Charley’s stomach and chest and neck, ending with a brief nip at his chin before Peter flops over next to him, watching Charley’s chest heave as he catches his breath.

Charley turns just his head. “You inspired?” he asks.

Peter laughs. “By you? Always.”

Charley leans over, cupping the back of Peter’s head and kisses him. “Glad I could help,” he says when he pulls away. He stretches contentedly, like a cat. “I should lounge around naked more often.”

“My manager would love that.”

“Would he?” Charley asks, sounding serious, “Love it?” And the emphasis on a particular word tells Peter they’re not talking about his manager anymore, or about nudity. Charley, it would seem, didn’t miss much.

“Thank you,” Charley says softly.

“For the blow job?” he asks, doing his best to destroy the moment before they talk about feelings or some other such nonsense. “I expect to be paid in kind.” He’s already working on his trousers.

“For everything,” Charley says.

 

FIN


End file.
